The Insanity of Draco Malfoy
by Slythindor
Summary: Me? In love with Harry-Oh-Look-At-Me-With-My-Stupid-Scar-And-My-Sexy-Smile-Potter! HA! // CHAPTER 6: Draco tries a sarcastic battle, partakes in animal cruelty (or does he?) and recieves more glares off of his favourite little Mudblood . . .
1. What Is Love?

**Title:** The Insanity of Draco Malfoy  
**Author name:** Slythindor   
**Category:** Humor  
**Sub Category:** General  
**Keywords:** Draco Harry  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Summary:** Me? In love with Harry-Oh-Look-At-Me-With-My-Stupid-Scar-And-My-Sexy-Smile-Potter! HA!  
**DISCLAIMER:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.   
**Author Notes:** Isn't Draco just the best character? Yes. Lol. Hope you like.

~*~*~*~

"What is love?"

  How many times have you heard that question and want to stab the person who asked it with the nearest sharp object? I've heard it quite a lot of times lately. Mostly, it's either asked from Crabbe or Goyle, but I don't think they want the whole fluffy, sloppy, philosophical love is blah blah blah – I think they just want to know what the word means.

  I've done quite a lot of asking that very question myself lately. Pansy said, "It's what I feel when I'm with you", which made me want to throw up right there over the Slytherin table. When I tried to slip the question in during a sixth-year dorm chat about which girl had the nicest arse, Blaise laughed and told me that what does love matter as long as you've got the person in bed? I guessed that he doesn't really care for feelings, then. I even tried nicking a dictionary from some first-year Mudblood to see what those brains from Oxford reckon it is.

a great liking or affection to be very fond of; like very much feeling love and great desire 

  But this just got me more confused 'cause I was sure that all those three definitions meant exactly the same thing. Maybe the people at Oxford weren't so clever; after all, they were Muggles.

  Desire. The Oxford Muggles say that that means 'a longing for'. A longing for?! HA! I don't have a longing for him at all! Him, with his stupid hair and stupid clothes that wouldn't look out of place in Weasley's wardrobe and that stupid, stupid scar! HA! That had to be the funniest thing I'd heard all day – me, 'a longing for' Harry-Oh-Look-At-Me-With-My-Stupid-Scar-And-My-Sexy-Smile-Potter!

  I threw the stupid dictionary out of the common room window, vowing never to trust a Muggle book ever again, before going down to dinner in the Great Hall. Crabbe and Goyle were there already, of course, stuffing their faces. Honestly, the day that I have a proper conversation with any of them will be the day I propose to Pansy-Throw-Myself-At-Anyone-In-Trousers-Parkinson.

  Pansy. Only one word that springs to mind when I think of her – Ew. I mean, she's okay looking, I suppose, if you like that sort of rat-faced smirking look, which she permanently seems to have on her face. Well, apart from when she's with me, of course. The annoying thing about her though, is that everybody seems to have already decided that she's gonna be the one I go and have a million little Draco's with. Pansy has so far managed to uphold this whole 'Draco's bitch' reputation and spends the whole of her life trying to get down my pants. Usually, I'd find this totally fine, but at the moment I seem to be having an, er, confusion, about which side of the Quidditch team I actually play for.

  It's all _his fault. Potter. I swear he must have slipped something in my drink when him, the Mudblood and Weasel walked past the table the other day. Why else would I be thinking of him all the god-damn time?! It's not like I'm actually in __love with stupid Harry Potter! This is just a minor hitch in my sexuality. Maybe if I paid a little more attention to Pansy, then I'll start to fancy her._

  Not that I fancy Potter anyway…  


	2. Mission Encourage Pansy's Advances

  Mission Encourage Pansy's Advances hasn't seemed to work quite as well as I'd hoped. Pansy seems incredibly happy, especially after we skipped Divination to go do, well y'know, what wizards do in broom cupboards. And I don't mean stock up on brooms. 

  Nothing seemed to come out of the broom cupboard frolics though. I mean, I tried to pretend I was enjoying myself and Pansy was so caught up in the, er, moment, that she didn't really realise that I _wasn't enjoying myself. It was all very un-fulfilling. Kinda like when you work yourself up to enjoying something so much that it's just not fun when it actually does come around. Kinda like Christmas, I guess. The whole giving presents bit doesn't really weigh up to the receiving presents bit, especially when you have Crabbe and Goyle giving you the most un-imaginative presents ever, while you give them something so much better. _

  Anyway, enough with the similes. The point is, I really think I'm playing for the wrong House. Maybe I play for all the Houses. Except, I don't think I'm stupid enough to play for Hufflepuff, I don't think they even realise that there are more than one House, if you get what I mean.

  Bloody hell. Enough with all these metaphors and other English-related things, I'm starting to confuse myself – again. This lusting after Potter business is going to my head. They'll be locking me away in St Mungo's and throwing away the key before I can say 'The Boy-Who-Lived' soon.

  I know plenty of people who play for both sides. Take Blaise for one, and that annoying Irish Finnigan in Gryffindor. Their sexuality is common knowledge – there isn't anyone that hasn't had a ride on their Nimbus 2001's before. Apart from me, of course. And Potter, just 'cause he's got that virginal-holier-than-how thing going on.

  But, it's _Potter. Bloody Harry-I'm-So-Oblivious-To-The-Fact-That-The-Whole-School-Is-In-Love-With-Me-Potter. This was worse than the world ending, or gasp, me not getting picked for Seeker, even if my father had bought the whole Slytherin team Firebolts. It was absurd. It didn't make sense. Me, fancying __Harry Potter!_

  I don't even know why he's in my thoughts all of a sudden. Life was just peachy; we'd argue and call each other various names – y'know, the usual – and then all of a sudden during the last Quidditch match, I was just about to go and knock him off his broom when I saw one of Weasel's vast amount of brothers, Fred (I think, maybe it was the other one?) saying something to him. Well it must have been quite amusing coz Potter laughed like he'd just seen McGonagall in her underwear or something. He looked so… _sexy. Then he glanced round, still with this big grin on his face. I dunno why, but I couldn't take my eyes off the prat. He spotted me and then said some completely random thing about taking pictures coz they last longer. I mean, that was un-called for – it wasn't like I was __staring at him! Ever since then, he just won't leave my brain! I thought I must be diseased at first, caught Potter Plague or something. I didn't even know why I was so caught up about him this year, when he's still the same short, messy-haired idiot he has been all the other years!_

  I decided to ask Blaise what he thought about him.

  "Hey Blaise, what do you think about Potter?" I asked as we walked towards Potions. 

  Blaise looked to see where Potter was, hurrying ahead with the other Gryffindor idiots, "Harry Potter? Break me off a piece of him!" This got me quite disturbed, so I left the conversation until we were in the middle of some potion Snape had set us in class.

  "Do you, er, think Potter's good looking then?" I asked, trying to casually peel some ingredient.

  Blaise looked at me like I was stupid, "Do you think Dumbledore's the Headmaster?"

  I frowned, "Er, yeah."

  "There you go then."

  Silence. I was confused, "Does everyone think this then?"

  This time, Blaise frowned, "That Dumbledore's Headmaster?"

  "No, Potter being good looking."

  "Oh," Blaise shrugged, "of course. Are you blind or something, everyone's after him."

  "Are they?"

  "Yeah, look," Blaise motioned around. Sure enough, there was quite a bit of attention going Potter's way. He didn't look quite like the short, messy-haired idiot he always had been.

  "I never noticed." I said.

  Blaise grinned, nudging me, "You're too caught up in Pansy."

  I managed a grin, "Er, yeah."

  Blaise threw some stuff into the potion and looked like he was thinking, "And he's a Gryffindor. Everyone knows they're gagging for it."

  I dropped my knife, "They are?"

  Blaise nodded, "Yeah, Finnigan and those giggling girls will go with anyone!"

  "Even Potter?"

  Blaise sighed, "Ah, Potter. He's gagging for it; he just doesn't know it yet," He grinned, "don't worry though, he's on my list."

  I didn't know which I was more scared of – Blaise being after Potter, or Blaise having a list. Nevertheless, I was so confused with my thoughts; I ended up adding to much Wolf skin to our potion and found myself growing a tail. This was not a good day.


	3. The Trouble With Finnigan

  Oh. My. God.

  Something's happened.

  Something _very bad._

  Oh. My. God.

  He knows. That bloody blond haired, Irish, Gryffindor. He freakin knows!

  Oh. My. God.

  He's gonna say something! He's gonna tell Potter. He's gonna tell him that I'm in love with him!

  But I'm not! Honest. This is just some dodgy confused thought of mine making me think I'm in _love with bloody Harry Potter._

  I don't even know how it happened. It was during Care of Magical Creatures, and we were meant to be feeding some ugly bird things. Potter and the other two were talking to that giant freak Hagrid over by his hut and I was conspicuously watching them. Well, I thought I was being conspicuous, but that fool Seamus Finnigan who was trying to stuff worms down the throat of the bird next to mine kept sniggering. 

  "Will you shut up?!" I cried after he'd sniggered for the millionth time.

  "I just think it's funny!" He said, before trying to hold back a laugh.

  "What's funny?!"

  "You," Finnigan grinned, "checking out Harry."

  "WHAT?!" I practically yelled, "I was not checking out Potter."

  The Irish prat nodded, "Yeah you were!"

  "I wasn't!"

  "Were."

  "Wasn't!"

  "Were."

  It carried on like a freakin pantomime for a few minutes until he said, "Well if you weren't checking out Harry, then you were checking out one of the other three."

  I pulled a face. Checking out Hagrid, Weasel or Mudblood was just too terrible to contemplate.

  Finnigan carried on, "So I'm guessing you were checking out Hagrid, cause well, I doubt even Zabini would do that. And unless you've suddenly taking a liking to the Weasley's, I doubt you're after Ron. So, that means you're after –"

  Oh God. Don't say it.

  "Hermione."

  Shudder. I didn't know what to say, either way it wasn't gonna work out very well. So I kept silent.

  "You fancy Hermione!" Finnigan cried, doubling over with laughter.

  I went about muttering, busying myself with the birds. I was suddenly aware of all the eyes in the pen looking right at me. I didn't even dare look up to see if Potter and his Scooby Gang were paying attention. Not that it mattered, coz I had Finnigan shouting over to her anyway.

  "Hey! Hermione!" he yelled so she looked over, "Malfoy fan-"

  I cut him off with a quick diversion – a punch to the face. Hagrid lumbered over like the big oaf he is as we wrestled about on the floor and pulled me off of him. I had a strange feeling that Finnigan was actually enjoying it. 

  "Wha you doin fightin?" Hagrid boomed, "You can both have detention with me later."

  Great, another hour with those two fools.

  So I went down to detention like a good little evil boy and found that Finnigan and Hagrid were already waiting for me. Hagrid instructed us to clean out the bird's pen without magic before he plodded away back to his shack, taking our wands with him.

  Finnigan was grinning away like an idiot as he scrubbed away at one of the perch things, singing the words, "Hermioneee Grangerrr" under his breath.

  I rolled my eyes, "I don't fancy that Mudblood."

  "So then you're admitting to checking out Harry then?" Finnigan's eyes gleamed.

  "No!" I threw down my cloth, "I'm not admitting to checking out _anyone, coz it was all in your strange little warped world!"_

  Finnigan nodded, "Riiight."

  Silence. Then, he looked at me, cocking his head, "I dunno why you're so bothered about it all, it's not like everyone else doesn't check out Harry every other minute of the day anyway."

  "Finnigan, you might find that the aspects of Potter are up to your standards, but they're definitely not up to mine."

  Finnigan scoffed, "Whatever flies your Golden Snitch."

  We cleaned the rest of it up in silence, me edging away from him to the other side of the pen so I wouldn't have to put up with his Potter rambles. I had him on my brain enough without Seamus Finnigan adding anymore thoughts up there.

  "Right," I said, standing up after I'd finished my side, "I'm going to get my wand back from that idiot."

  "Hey, Malfoy," Finnigan said as I started to walk away, "don't worry, I won't tell Harry. It'd scare him even more if he found out you were trailing him aswell." He grinned and I wanted to hit him.

  I sighed, rolling my eyes and storming away to Hagrid's house. Not that you could actually call it a house. I would've thought that seeing as Dumbledore likes the giant so much; he would've at least let him sleep in the dungeons or something. I suppose Snape wouldn't have liked that too much though. 

  Hagrid's shack was empty, the door wide open, so I found my wand on top of the table with Finnigan's. I thought about throwing his out the window or something more destructive, but I could hear him coming to get his own wand, so I hurried back to the castle before he could say something else about Potter.

  I know he's going to tell him. He's one of Potter's best friends for Merlin's sake. And he's a bloody Gryffindor, the whole 'loyal, brave, blah, blah, blah' thing. I mean, it's Seamus Finnigan. Everyone knows his business and he knows everyone elses. Apart from mine, well, until now that is. I don't need a stupid Gryffindor sticking his nose in my business, _especially if it's Seamus Finnigan. That's worse then letting Blaise know, or those two gigglers in Gryffindor, Brown and Patil. God forbid what would happen if Finnigan told __them._


	4. A Bunch of Strange Gryffindors

  He's out-done himself. Seamus Finnigan has managed to out-do himself so much, that he's all the way past out-do, right into flat out surpassed!!! He didn't tell Potter, thank Merlin. I actually thank him for at least keeping _that promise. But he did go and tell someone else, which is probably even worse then telling Potter himself. No, he didn't go and tell Weasel, nor Parvati Patil, or even Lavender Brown. Seamus Finnigan went and told someone much worse than all of them put together._

  Hermione Granger.

  In the name of Salazar Slytherin's skivvies, what was Finnigan thinking?! Bloody Mudblood, Potter's best friend that actually has a brain cell, _Hermione Granger. I might as well go throw myself out of the Astronomy Tower right now. Well, I would do, but I know for a fact that Blaise is in the middle of seducing some fifth-year Hufflepuff up there, and there is no way I want to be walking in on __that. It's a bloody challenge trying to direct Hufflepuff's to the Astronomy Tower, nevermind actually __seduce them. I never thought that Blaise would stoop __that low._

  Anyway, I have no time for throwing myself off high buildings at the moment – I have a Quidditch match to attend! I've, er, kinda been, um, dropped though, from the Slytherin team. That twat Marcus Bent said I was a hazard to the teams winning streak after I managed to not see the snitch when it was hovering right above my ear during the last match. That's all Potter's fault too. Damn him and his stupid sexiness.

  Sigh. Never did I think the day would come when I'd be dropped from the team even when father bought us all new Firebolts. Or the day that I'd call Potter sexy. Hmmm. Something is seriously wrong with me.

~*~*~

  So, I was walking down to the Quidditch pitch, shouting loudly about how Slytherin were going to slaughter Gryffindor from here all the way to Timbuktu, when Professor McNoFun came stomping across the grounds.

  "MR MALFOY!" She screeched, sending a few first-years into deafness, "NEVER in my life have I heard such language!"

  I frowned. Language? Sure, there were a few obscenities here and there, but nothing for her to get her overlarge knickers in a twist about.

  "That's it! You will sit with me in the Gryffindor stand for the match!"

  Well, that's taking it all a bit too far. All of a sudden I was forced up to the Gryffindork's stand and here I am, being plonked down in a seat right next to that Mudblood.

  That's it, Merlin hates me.

  "Malfoy, shouldn't you be up there with all the other Slytherin's?" Granger says, smiling sweetly, "Oh wait! You got _dropped, didn't you?!"_

  "Oh go brush your hair, Granger."

  Professor McStern glares down at me, "Malfoy, you will stay here for the rest of the match. If I so much as see you take one step out of your seat, it will be off to the Headmasters office for you."

  Threatening me with Dumbledore? Jeez, now there's a heart-stopper.

  "Malfoy! What a pleasure to see _you here!" Finnigan is making his way down the row, throwing himself down in the empty seat next to me and waving a Gryffinbore flag in my face. _

  "Shut it, Finnigan." I yawn, "this match better be over quickly."

  "Don't worry," Granger says, "Harry will catch the snitch soon."

  "You mean without falling off his broomstick? Now, that would be a miracle wouldn't it – Potter not biting the dust in a Quidditch game."

  Granger scoffs, "Oh, I forgot how you've been monitoring Harry very closely lately."

  Finnigan coughs and pretends to be absorbed in the Ravenclaw stands and it takes all my might for me to not send him an Avada Kedavra glare. I think Granger would pick up on that too easily. After all, she has sent many a-my way.

  "Monitor Potter? Granger, it's not hard to monitor Potter. You can see him wherever he goes as he always seems to be followed by some bright beacon of red hair in shabby robes. I believe he's known as your boyfriend."

  She makes some strange noise in her throat. I frown. Gryffindors are weird.

  "Well I've heard you're very interested in Harry…" she says, giving me a pointed look.

  "Yes, yes, our is a forbidden love," I roll my eyes, "Did you know Crabbe and Goyle have just beaten you in an Arithmancy exam, Hagrid's been made Headmaster, and Weasley over here has just inherited enough money to buy some robes that aren't second hand."

  Either Granger didn't hear my remark, or she chose to ignore it as Dean Thomas and Finnigan started up that stupid "Go, go Gryffindor!" chant. Honestly, how boring is that chant? We Slytherins have many chants going on about 'ripping their ****ing heads off' and 'slamming them with bludgers', but these bloody Gryffindors just sit there and sing "Go, go Gryffindor"!  
  "Go, go Slytherin!" I shout, mimicking them. All of a sudden a load of Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans came raining down on me.

  "Hey! Watch the hair!" I turn round and glare at the offenders – two third-years who are now cowering in their seats.

  That's it, feel the Malfoy wrath!

  I turn back to the game and watch as the Quidditch players zip around on their brooms. I'm glad to see that we're winning 40-30. I love Quidditch; it's one of my few passions in life. That, and annoying people with my sarcastic wit. Both a whole lotta fun.

  "Malfoy, can't you just go and annoy someone else?" Weasley sighs.

  "Sorry, part of my charm. Anyway, you heard McMardy over there; I'm not allowed to leave."

  "And _you really care about what McGonagall thinks?" Granger says._

  "Granger, I may not be, well, _you, but believe it or not, I do at least play by some rules," I reply, "Dumbledore's hardly the scariest man in the world, but I don't really want to be spending my nights cleaning toilets with Filch from now on."_

  Granger sighs, "You are such an idiot, Malfoy."

  "So I've been told."

  Slytherin lose the match. Ha. Should've played me, the idiots. The reserve Seeker they used was crap, Potter beat him easily.

  Don't think of Potter. Don't think of Potter. Don't think of Potter.

  "Hey, Malfoy."

  I turn round to see Granger running up to me as I walk back to the castle, wondering if Blaise was too busy to attend the match, "What do you want?"

  "I want you to leave Harry alone."

  "What are you talking about? I haven't even been near him." I shake my head and carry on walking.

  "I don't want you to start, I dunno, coming on to him or whatever you're planning to do. He doesn't need that." She says, following me.

  I roll my eyes, "Oh, stupid me, and there I was about to jump on Potter. Just so we're clear, you know your nuts, right?"

  "Just leave him alone, Malfoy."

  I ignore her and carry on walking. She halts before running in the opposite direction. I always thought she was a bit weird, but she's worse! Must be all the library air, does things to the brain. Come on to Potter! HA!

  This Potter Plague has got to go away.

(A/N: Contains quotes from 'Buffy The Vampire Slayer' that don't belong to me *grins*)


	5. Hate

  _Previously, in Draco Malfoy's ongoing insanity . . . Draco pondered about a mad-crush on Harry the Boy Wonder, while trying to cover it up from a certain over-eager Irish boy, aswell as the clever best friend of said Boy Wonder._

  Gryffindor is the weirdest House in the world. Really, no joking, they are the strangest bunch of people. If they're not prancing about on their brooms pretending they're an actual Quidditch team, they're staring at you constantly.

  Well, that's just Hermione Granger. It's starting to freak me out slightly. Maybe she fancies me? I wouldn't blame her, it's not like everyone else doesn't.

  It's weird though. Everywhere I turn, she is bloody staring at me. And not appreciative Lavender Brown staring either, it's all freaky stony-eyed, suspicious staring. I swear, if my heart wasn't already frozen, it would be seriously cooling right now. Everywhere I go, whether it be in the Great Hall, Potions, or even in the freaking corridors, she'll go out of her way to blatantly catch my eye and glare, while she practically shouts, "Come on Harry, this way!", as if I'm just going to suddenly leap over and ravish Potter up against the wall.

  Not that I hadn't thought about it . . .

  Then there's bloody Seamus Finnigan. Merlin, that God-damn Gryffindor! Everytime I see him, he bloody _winks at me and makes a big deal out of dancing around Potter, brushing his arm and grinning over at me. One day, I'll sic Crabbe and Goyle on him. Then we'll see whose smiling._

  Oh God. Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy have noticed that I'm a bit distracted lately too. Crabbe and Goyle keep asking why we take a wide berth whenever The Three Musketeers are around, wanting to go over so they can grunt menacingly at them. Pansy, on the other hand, just wants to know when we're next gonna take a trip into her favourite broom cupboard. I keep making excuses, telling her I have too much homework. It's a good job she's not exactly the brightest Dark Mark on the arm, I swear, because she's in practically all my classes.

  "Don't you just hate Gryffindors?"

  That was Blaise. Apparently, he's got turned down by Parvati Patil. Well, at least someone shares my opinion on that stupid bunch of people.

  "Got kicked away again, Zabini?" I ask innocently, trying to stop myself smirking as I put my books away. I swear, it takes a lot of will power for my mouth not to curl up in its trademark position. I wonder if Father has this much lack of control over his smirk?

  Blaise sits up from his sprawled position on my bed. Honestly, why can't he go and lay all over his own bed? He's rumpling all my sheets!

  "I have not been _kicked anywhere!" he replies. "Just merely pushed slightly to one side," he looked thoughtful for a moment. "And what do you mean, __again?"_

  "Zabini, the only reason you turned on Parvati was because Padma turned you down."

  Blaise shrugs. "What's the point of twins if both of them are the same?" Sighing, he finally decides to get the hell off my bed and stands up. "I bloody hate Gryffindors. And Ravenclaws. _And Huffle–"_

  "Back to Gryffindors," I say quickly, trying to straighten my sheets without looking to obvious. "Isn't there anyone in there you like the look of, apart from the Patil girl?"

  Blaise raises his eyebrows. "Which part of 'I bloody hate Gryffindors' didn't you understand? What's wrong with you lately, Malfoy? You've been so out of it lately."

  Uh oh. "Um . . . bad fish?"

  Blaise seemed satisfied with by this and went and sat on his own bed, leaving me to breathe a sigh of relief for a moment before he asks, "So what about you and our brave, courageous and downright boring little House?"

  "Me and Gryffindors," I scoff. "I don't think so."

  Blaise grins. "When you get them on their own, phew, let me tell you!"

  Ok. Ew. One does not want to hear about the extra curricular activates of Gryffindors straight after lunch. "Yeah. I'm sure."

  Blaise carries on, oblivious to my sudden queasiness and decides to make it worse. "What about Seamus Finnigan? According to my spies, you two were getting pretty close at the Quidditch match the other day."

  "Finnigan!? No way. Close? Yeah, close to shoving that bloody Gryffindor flag he was wielding right down his throat!" I pause. "And what do you mean, spies?"

  Blaise looks at me pointedly. "Yeah, what did you think I go to do with all the second-years I keep going to meet?" I didn't like to say. "Where do you think I get all my information of the happenings in the school?"

  I laugh. "You don't know _everything going on in the school!"_

  "Sure I do," he says. "Take for instance, tonight, I know that three fourth-year Ravenclaws have detention, Dumbledore will be off visiting the Ministry, and McGonagall's off to meet Snape for a bit of how's your father." Blaise grins smugly as I cover my ears.

  "Oh no. I didn't need to know that. I really didn't. That was an over-share."

  Blaise laughs. "I told you I knew everything about this stupid place."

  I roll my eyes. "Whatever,"  Taking my cloak, I pull it on. "I'm going for a walk, I'll see you later."

  "Yeah, bye. Watch you don't bump into McGonagall, you never know where she's been."

  Shudder. Blaise loves seeing me squirm. Big freak.

  I slip through the castle quickly, heading into the Great Hall. Not that many people are around at this time, just a few finishing up from dinner or wandering around aimlessly. Crabbe and Goyle are still eating, most probably. I often lose track of them around meal times.

  It only takes me a couple of minutes to get outside, pull the cloak hood up right over my head and inhale the cold, fresh air deeply. Yesterday we had a cold day, meaning there is a lot of frost around, turning everything into white, glinting icicles. It's that time of the year when you breathe out and your breath is clearly visible in the sharp air, especially at night. It's not dark yet though, and I take my first step on the frozen grass and listen to the satisfying crunch, before making my way towards the lake.

  I'm not sure when I started going for walks. It was originally to escape Pansy's advances at nightfall, but now it's part of a sporadic routine. At the risk of sounding like some big Ravenclaw or something, it's kinda therapeutic. I can imagine this is what they all so for kicks.

  The lake is partly frozen and I stand at the waters edge, watching the thin chunks of ice float around on the surface for a while, before picking up some stones and skimming them across the lake, seeing how many ice blocks I can sink with three skims.

  All I can think about is bloody Potter. It's like he's been burnt permanently on my brain, some big, goofy picture of him. Him and his un-kept hair and round glasses and that ugly scar. Everywhere I go, all I can see is that damn lightening thing bobbing up and down, completely stood out amongst everything else. Even when I'm all alone in the dormitory, or I just close my eyes, it's still there, dancing away mockingly.

  I cry out, frustrated, and slam a rather large stone right into the lake infront of me, causing the ice cold water to splash up, soaking me through. I swear, again and again, repeating every curse word in the whole universe, my voice growing louder and louder. Part of me hopes there is no one around, praying that no one has to witness my sudden lack of control. The last thing I need in a load of first-years running inside to announce that Draco Malfoy has finally lost it. The other part of me couldn't give a damn.

  Suddenly, just as I'm about to throw another pebble, someone crunches on the grass behind me, their voice echoing around the lake and startling me.

  "Malfoy? Is that you?"

* * * * * * *

_Coming up, in 'The Insanity of Draco Malfoy' . . . Draco meets a surprise person (any guesses?!) and gets involved in a little sarcastic battle, while Hermione gets to perfect her glare on our favourite little insane boy . . ._


	6. Killing Two Birds With One Stone

  "Malfoy? Is that you?"

  I didn't even have to turn around to know who it is. "Who the bloody hell do you think it is, Potter?" I reply. My planned attempt at a casual drawl comes out more high-pitched than I would've liked. Great, just great.

  Another crunch. He's coming closer. Jesus. Stay back!

  "What are you doing?" He asks attentively.

  "What does it look like I'm doing, Potter?" I snap. There is another crunch on the grass. For Merlin's sake, can't he keep himself away from me?!

  "Well," he says. "It looks like you're trying to kill those birds on that rock," he pauses. "You _are trying to kill those birds!"_

  Trust me to fall for The Boy Who Lived To Be Completely Stupid! "I'm not," I say, turning to face him.

  "Then what _are you doing?"_

  I consider what will happen if I tell him the truth. _Oh sorry, Potter, I was just going insane and screaming swear words because I'm secretly in love with you! Is that okay?_ I suddenly realise that maybe letting him think I was throwing stones at birds would probably be a better option that admitting my annoyingly true feelings. 

  Stuck in indifference for a moment, I am only able to show Potter my amazing Goldfish impression.

  "You _were_ trying to kill those birds!" he glares at me. "This is so typical of you, Malfoy!"

  I sigh. It is a sad situation when one of Potter's un-scary glares almost kills me. Or makes me want to jump on him. Even worse - both at the same time. Eesh.

  I look up, realising that Potter's looking at me expectantly, waiting for an answer. I can only stammer, "Y – you don't understand!"

  He looks at me in disbelief. "What the hell isn't there to understand?! You're stood on the edge of the lake screaming swear words and partaking in animal cruelty! It's all pretty clear to me."

  This is getting ridiculous! Shape up, Draco! "Come on then, Potter, enlighten me with your words of wisdom."

  It is amazing how much just a little bit of sarcasm can brighten up your day.

  "They've finally got you," Potter says. Okay, so not the reply I was expecting.

  What? "What? Who?"

  "The Death Eaters. The Evil Guys. Voldemort's Secret Service. The –" 

  "I get the picture, Potter," I reply dryly, not wanting to believe what a stupid situation this was. If only I'd stayed to get freaked out by Blaise that little bit longer!

  "Yeah, well, you're not denying it then? I bet you've got that Mark burning away on your arm right this minute!" He makes a move as if to grab my arm but then thinks the better of it. What in the name of Merlin is up with him?!

  I close my eyes momentarily. "Potter, I have not joined leagues with Voldemort."

  "Sure you have!" He actually looks bitter. "Ron was right."

  "Potter, Weasley has never been right about anything in his life, but pray tell his thoughts."

  Potter sends me a sharp look. "He says you've joined Voldemort!"

  Oh for Merlin's sake! "Potter, I am not evil!" I pause. "Well, I _am_, but not desperate evil. For the time being, of course."

  Potter looks at me as if it's finally all clicked in that one brain cell of his. I'm quite disappointed. Bewilderment actually makes him look cuter. _Stop thinking about Potter as if he's cute! Potter is not cute. Potter is the gnat in my ear, the gristle in my teeth. The bloody thorn in my bloody side!_

"You're not joining Voldemort?"

  "Not yet," I reply.

  Potter frowns. Gah, he's got to stop with the cuteness, I'm starting to feel dirty. Oh no, now it's dirty thoughts about Potter. Help me!

  "But, you _were_ throwing stones at the birds?"

  I sigh. "Yes, Potter. Yes, I was trying to get my third hit in a row."

  He shakes his head. "You're sadistic, Malfoy."

  There is silence. Potter looks like he's thinking. Looks like we'll be here for a while, then.

  I pick up some more stones and skim them across the lake. Potter looks at me enquiringly.

  "Just go away, Potter."

  Ignoring me, he bends down to scoop up some pebbles, aims, and tries to skim it. Note the operative word being _tries._

"Jesus, Potter, you're pathetic."

  His eyes flicker quickly at me. He tries again.

  "You can't even skim a stone?!"

  He tries again. The stone just sinks miserably to the bottom only about three feet away from the shore.

  "Potter, are you a girl?"

  This time, I at least receive a glare. Not quite on Granger's levels yet, though.

  Sighing, I pick up another pebble. "You actually have to _attempt _it, y'know."

  "Sorry, Malfoy, didn't realise you were an Olympic skimmer." His tone of voice makes me realise he must be being sarcastic. But what are the Olympics?

  I wave a hand dismissively. "Yeah, whatever Potter. Look, you need to hold it like this." I show him my hand. He tries to copy, but ends up fumbling and dropping the stone.

  "Potter, you are worse than Weasley," I say as I bend over and pick up the pebble. He snatches it from me and his skin brushes mine, making me jolt. He notices something's wrong. Cover it up! "Come on then, Potter; show us your amazing skill."

  He attempts. He fails.

  It's his fifth go and he's pulling back his arm. Just before he releases, I grab his arm and pull it further back. He jumps, his arm goes flying and the pebble shoots out, skimming the surface of the lake until . . . bang!

  "Oh my God!" Potter cries. "I just hit a bloody bird!"

  "Well, at least it skimmed," I say meekly.

  Someone is shouting from the other side of the lake, having obviously just witnessed Potter knock out one of our feathered friends.

  "Run!" I cry.

  Potter stands there, gawping. I grab his arm and pull him away from the lake and up to the castle until we're hidden in the doorway of the main entrance.

  "I can't believe we just did that!" Potter pants. Oh God. He's all tousled and out of breath!

  "We?!" I splutter. "You're the one who can't keep control of their arms!"

  "You pulled me back!"

  Suddenly, there is a screech as the door is pulled open behind us. Guess who it is? The bloody Mudblood. Great! I'm surprised I didn't feel her glare approaching.

  "Malfoy," she says. Then she notices Potter, and her voice reaches breaking point. "Harry! What are you doing here with _him?!"_

  "Nothing," Potter spits. "I'm not doing _anything with Malfoy."_

  "As if I'd want to do anything with you anyway, Potter! You were the one who disturbed my peaceful walk!"

  "Oh yes," Potter says sarcastically. "Because animal cruelty is so peaceful!"

  Granger is looking at me suspiciously. Well, she can just piss off for one thing! I'm bloody sick of her _staring!_

  "What is it, Granger? I'm starting to think that you fancy me, you never stop bloody looking! What would Weasley say?"

  She blushes bright red. "I'm not going out with Ron! And anyway, I wouldn't fancy you if you were the last wizard on Earth!"

  "That's what they all say," I put a hand to my heart. "That cut deep, Granger."

  "Oh shove off, Malfoy!" She looks at Potter. "Come on, Harry!" And with that, her bushy head disappears back inside.

  "Come on little doggy! Here little doggy!" I sing as Potter glares at me one last time before slipping after Granger.

  Well, that went well.


End file.
